


Strays

by Teacandles



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animals, Canon Disabled Character, Corgis, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Illustrated, Kittens, Obligatory Kitten Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:11:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teacandles/pseuds/Teacandles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven's handicapped corgi Charles has a bad habit of finding stray kittens and bringing them home with him. One day, instead of finding an adorable kitten, Charles befriends a rough-and-tumble alley cat. Hank is not amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strays

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [流浪猫](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4066324) by [Go_MrCactus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Go_MrCactus/pseuds/Go_MrCactus)



> I've been going through a fairly severe bout of depression, and it's been hard to create much of anything for months. I happened to stumble upon [this prompt](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/9701.html?thread=21199077#t21199077) over at the kink meme, and I started drawing wheelchair corgis because the visual was way to cute for me to pass up. I felt a bit bad doodling all these dogs without giving anything to the prompter, so I wrote this. Working on cleaning up the art has been a lot more fun than studying for finals, I must say.

  


Hank paused in his preparation of tonight's dinner as the small swarm of cats around his feet perked to attention and made a beeline for the door. He glanced up at the clock above the stove. It was already a quarter past six; Raven was running late.  
  
"Hank?" Speak of the devil. The muffled sounds of shoes hitting the hardwood floor as Raven kicked them off her feet and the jingling tags of Charles's collar wafted in from down the hall.  
  
"I'm in the kitchen!" he called back, shaking his head and turning his attention back to dinner. He wanted to get as much work done as possible before the cats returned to inconveniently place themselves underfoot.  
  
Soon the soft clicking of Charles's nails hit his ears. There was a slight, rhythmic scraping sound as the dog made his way to the kitchen; something must be jamming up one of the wheels of his cart. Hank would have to look at that later when Charles settled down for the night. Footsteps soon followed, and Hank braced himself for an armful of Raven, her typical greeting after her evening walk around the block with the dog, but nothing came. That could only mean one thing. She had brought home another stray.  
  
Hank sighed, his shoulders falling as he stared morosely at the half chopped cloves of garlic spread out before him.

"Raven, you know we can't take in any more animals," he said with defeat, not even bothering to turn around and face her. Sure, they no longer had to deal with the hassle of landlords and increased rent for pets, but food was another thing entirely. They could barely feed the menagerie they already had and their funds were growing thinner and thinner every month.  
  
Storm had returned to her place at Hank's feet, curling her little grey body around Hank's ankles in a vain attempt to procure a quick pat on the head or perhaps a scrap of food from the counter if she was lucky. Banshee once again started up his protests against Hank’s decision to prepare food where he couldn’t reach it, and he stretched his tiny white paws as far as they could go up the side of the counter, claws leaving behind barely visible lines in the wood as he slid back down to the floor. Hank pointedly ignored the kittens, keeping his attention focused entirely on his fiancé and the excuses that were sure to come pouring out of her mouth any second now.  
  
Raven shuffled her feet from her place at the threshold to the kitchen. Her socks swept quietly in time to Charles's panting breaths. "It's not me," she said with a sigh of her own. "I couldn't get Charles to leave this one."  
  
"That's what you said the last time. No, the last _three_ times." Hank turned, tense and ready for the fight that was sure to come. They really couldn't handle any more cats; between the two of them, Raven's handicapped corgi and the six kittens that had all 'followed her home' in the past month, money was getting rather tight. He'd found homes for two of the cats so far, and Scott was coming by tomorrow to pick one out of the remaining bunch for his kid brother, but that still left them with three cats unaccounted for, and now Raven had brought home one more. Hank was at the end of his rope, and he opened his mouth to get a proper argument going when he spotted the cat planted in front of the pantry door, quietly grooming the dog's cheek.  
  
The cat was too thin and a little bit mangy. There were patches of sleek fur missing from his legs and shoulders where little lumps of pink scar tissue rose up along its skin, and its whiskers were all bent slightly out of shape, but the cat seemed healthy enough at a glance. The dog certainly seemed happy enough (of course he did; Charles loved cats). Charles stood completely still, save for the slight movement of his face as the cat smoothed back his reddish-brown fur.

  
"I swear this one actually followed us home. Charles wouldn't let me leave without him, and believe me, I tried." She looked down at the dog where he stood, lost in the gentle movements of his new companion's grooming. "I think Charles would have let him ride along on the cart if he could."  
  
Hank stared at the pair before startling at the pull of a cat making its slow ascent up his pant leg. Banshee, tired of being ignored, was taking matters into his own hands. Hank peeled the kitten away from his jeans and settled him into his arms, scratching the soft fur behind Banshee's ears to pacify him.  
  
Raven frowned as she watched Charles and his new companion. "It's weird. He's never gotten so attached to an adult cat so quickly before. And I don't know if we can get rid of this one." She looked up sheepishly at Hank. "We're running out of friends to give cats to."  
  
Hank knew that all too well. Banshee had settled into the crook of his arm and was quickly falling asleep, his little breaths punctuated with soft, rumbling purrs. Hank felt his resolve melting. Damn Raven and her cat-loving corgi. He was turning into an even bigger softie that when they'd first met. "I suppose we could keep him. Since Scott is coming by tomorrow."  
  
Raven's face lit up and she bounded over to him, pulling his face down for a kiss. Banshee squirmed a little at the sudden movement, but made no move to escape Hank's arms.  
  
"All right." Hank turned his attention to the cat beside the pantry; his yellow-green eyes stared back apprehensively until Charles nudged his side and the cat fell back into grooming the dog. "I suppose he'll need a name."  
  
"Magneto," Raven immediately supplied, and Hank grimaced.  
  
"You always come up with the strangest names."  
  
"Says the man who thought the names Sean, Jean and Kitty," Raven rolled her eyes at the last, "were creative pet names."  
  
"They're perfectly good names," Hank replied with a huff. "Certainly better than what they have now."  
  
"Oh? And what would you call Charles's new best friend over there?"  
  
Hank's brow furrowed in thought. "Max? No, Erik. He looks like an Erik."  
  
Raven rolled her eyes again. "I love you darling, but sometimes you are incredibly boring."  
  
"Well, your dog's name is Charles."  
  
"He was already named when I got him from the shelter. It was too late to change it to Professor X."  
  
"Right." Hank placed the still purring Banshee back on the floor, and he quickly stumbled over to where Shadowcat and Phoenix were tussling by the stove. "Well, I guess I better finish up dinner so we can feed all of these guys. Erik—"  
  
"—Magneto."  
  
"Whatever—looks like he could stand to gain a pound or two."


End file.
